The 68th Hunger Games: Kimbra's Story
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: Kimbra and Kirby are the youngest, weakest Careers, but Mags assures Kimbra she can still win. Meanwhile, Finnick and Scarlett realize the implications of their fun. Part of my series, sequel to The 67th Hunger Games: Luke's Story. FO/SD, SD/DD, SD/CS


**A/N: This story is the latest in my line of Hunger Games stories, the first in this particular series being Finnick's Story. All of my Hunger Games stories are related. Some of the years will be told more than once, from different viewpoints. I hope you enjoy this story, and this first chapter is dedicated to my loyal reader, reviewer, and best friend, **_**Missing Triforce**_**.**

** Also, this chapter is from Kimbra's POV.**

** -C**

It was early in the morning, but it took me a while to get myself together for the reaping. I climbed out of bed and stretched my arms, trying to decide what to do with my hair.

The blonde locks covered my shoulders as I picked out a dress to wear for the reaping before going to take a bath. My brother, Merlin, would be getting ready at the last minute, as always, but that suited me just fine. I woke up early on purpose, giving myself plenty of time to change my mind about my hair before I went to meet my friends.

I scrubbed up quickly as I could without missing a spot, rising off and climbing out to pull on my sea-green dress and tie the bow in the back carefully.

Dressing was the easy part, as my mother always said. It was the hair that was tricky.

Blonde hair was supposed to be a blessing, it was supposed to be something that made a girl more attractive, but mine was always so frizzy that I never knew what to do with it, and I often just let it do whatever it wanted. It didn't help that there was always so much moisture in the air in District Four.

My mother had bought a special hair product for my reaping days that was supposed to keep it flat, and it did a surprisingly good job. Still, it took far longer to get ready than any of my friends' hair, and that I found to be very annoying. An hour or so later I had managed to smooth down my hair, tie it up in a bun that looked reasonably sleek, and go out to the kitchen where Merlin had already gotten ready and sat down to breakfast.

"Good morning, Kimbra," my father said with a smile. "You look lovely."

I thanked him quietly, sticking a fork in the little fish omelets they'd put on a plate in front of me.

We couldn't really afford fish omelets most of the time. My father was a simple fisherman and my mother was too ill to work, and they paid so much for our training each year, but it was my favorite breakfast and my family scrimped and saved so that they would be able to afford to do it each year since I was twelve and up for the reaping...

Just in case it was my last breakfast in our home.

Merlin, he didn't have favorite meals. He just liked food, whatever it was. He actually liked to help my mother make the omelets for me because he knew what it meant to me.

"Are you going to see Morgan and the boys before you go to the reaping, Kimbra?" my mother said happily.

It was a false sort of happy. Even the parents of the richest, best-prepared sorts of students from District Four were nervous when their children went in for the reaping. Whether they were nervous they would be chosen, or that they wouldn't be, there wasn't a single parent in the crowd who hadn't been praying for something since the time they woke up that morning.

"I don't think so," I said softly. "Gal and Phrixus are volunteering this year so they wanted extra time with their families."

"Morgan's not?" Merlin asked, putting some more omelet onto my plate.

"No, her trainer doesn't think she's ready," I muttered, smiling my thanks at him before digging in. "Do you think I've got a chance?"

"Maybe," my father said encouragingly. "Anything's possible. Who knows, maybe-"

"Don't," my mother said sharply, turning away and composing herself before turning back to pick up Merlin's plate to put it in the sink.

We all knew what my father had been about to say. Since Merlin and I were both going to be volunteering, it was possible that we would both be chosen for the Games. If that happened, one of us wouldn't make it out alive, and it was always possible that one of us would have to kill the other. The chances that either of us would be chosen were slim, of course, but it was always possible. There was even less of a chance that both of us would be chosen, though, so I didn't see much good in worrying about such a thing unless it was actually happening.

Mostly because it was better not to think about it happening. I didn't want to imagine a world without Merlin, much less a world where Merlin's being gone was somehow my fault.

Or, should the worst happen, a world where my parents lost both children in a single Hunger Games.

"Come on, you two had better be getting ready, then," my mother finally said as I finished the last of the omelets and Merlin started sorting out his hair. "We've got to get you there in time to register, you know."

I shivered, thinking of the girl who didn't register the year before because she overslept.

It simply wasn't allowed, not showing for the reaping. It wouldn't happen to us.

Merlin quickly finished with his hair and we all hurried to the town square, kissing our parents goodbye and hugging each other before we got in separate lines and turned away from each other, waiting anxiously for our turns to be signed in before we hurried to stand with our friends in our grades. I could feel my heart pounding as I slid in between Morgan and Phrixus.

"Hey," I whispered. "Where's Gal?"

"Standing by Annie Cresta," Morgan said bitterly.

I didn't know the girl except by reputation, that she was very nice and fairly talented and pretty. I couldn't even remember what age she was. We were a large district. It could be hard to keep track. Before I had a chance to turn and ask Phrixus, who seemed far less phased by the whole thing than Morgan, about Annie, Mayor Weber stood up, silencing the crowd with his very friendly smile that belied the event that was about to occur: two children were about to be chosen to slaughter each other and over twenty others.

We stood dutifully and listened as Mayor Weber recounted the history that led to the Hunger Games, the formation of Panem, the war when the districts rose up against the Capitol, the tainted peace and the Games and their use in holding us in our place forever more, a constant reminder of what would happen to all of us should we rise up again, a reminder of how expendable we all were.

Of course he didn't say it in quite those words, but we'd heard the speech at least a dozen times apiece, so we weren't really listening, any of us. We were too busy thinking of our volunteering or lack of volunteering that would follow.

When Mayor Weber finished, Meredith, our district escort, stood and addressed us briefly, talking about the grand tradition of District Four in the Hunger Games. Being a career district where almost everyone who competed for us had been training half their lives, it wasn't strange that there were so many District Four Victors to honor. The strange part was how few of them were still alive. Only Finnick Odair and Mags Holub were still living, and so they were the two mentors for the tributes to be selected.

"Ladies first," Meredith said, as she always said, and I held my breath.

If my name was called, it was over for me that year. Someone else would volunteer and I would have no chance.

Meredith reached her claw-like manicured hands into the bowl on her right and fished around for a moment before pulling out one of the slips, one of the slips that had the name of some girl standing in the square with me that day, maybe even myself. Maybe even my name. I held my breath.

"Morgan Ranta!"

I turned and smiled weakly at Morgan.

At least she knew that she wasn't going to be somehow swept up in the moment of volunteering and actually be in the Games before she was ready. Still she was trembling as she made her way up to the stage in her lavender dress. Finnick Odair held out his hands to help her onto the stage, up the stairs where she shook hands and looked out over the whole audience as though she was about to be sick.

And the entirety of Panem was watching. I could feel my own stomach turning a bit, watching her.

I wasn't listening to the boy they called, but he was some twelve-year-old from the docks, some worker's son who looked as though he'd never been fed a day in his life. The moment he made it onto the stage, volunteers began pouring forward, including myself, Phrixus, and - somewhere in the crowd - Merlin and Gal. I didn't know who I wanted to be the male tribute, but I knew that I absolutely had to be the female tribute. My hair was perfect this year. I didn't know if I'd get another chance to look so pretty before being hauled off to the Capitol.

Before I really understood what was happening, they were taking down our names and tossing them in separate bowls, just as they had done for the initial drawing, only this time everyone in the bowls was actively volunteering to put their life on the line for the glory of their district, their family, themselves. For a life of ease and a legacy that would last for the rest of time.

I stood shaking as my name was taken down and tossed into the bowl. I managed to find a distraught Morgan through the chaos of the crowd and squeeze her hand.

My ears were fuzzy and she was trying to say something to me, but Meredith's hand was already reaching for the female volunteer's bowl and I turned my attention back to the reaping ceremony, feeling my heart pounding furiously in my chest as her hand went into the bowl and came out again with a folded slip of paper. She moved to the microphone and read out the name:

"Kimbra Gillespie!" she cried, and Morgan's eyes grew wide with shock and maybe even a bit of fear as I was pushed forward.

I found my brother's eyes in the crowd of volunteers and I couldn't tell if he was pleased for me or worried about... one of the million things he could be worried about.

Finnick Odair shook my hand and then Mags Holub, the elderly woman who would be my mentor. On the plus side she'd mentored a lot of tributes, including Finnick. On the other hand, her own Hunger Games had been over fifty years ago.

I turned back to watch as Meredith put her hand once more into a bowl, this time the one with the male volunteers' names and I held my breath once again. I don't know what I was hoping for.

Meredith's hand came out and she unfolded the paper, glancing at it only for a moment before saying, "Kirby Shepard."

Kirby Shepard was a dark-haired boy who lived down by the docks, but he was closer to my age so I recognized him from school and training. He and I were on the weaker end of people approved for volunteering for the Games, so we did a lot of the same exercises, but we'd never actually spoken. There was some girl his age with pretty blonde hair he kept trying to chat up.

Before I had a chance to say a word to him, Peacekeepers ushered Kirby and myself off to the town hall where we were put in separate rooms where people would meet us to say our good-byes before we got onto the train to the Capitol.

I sat there primly on a chair in the corner, watching the door, waiting for my family to come through the door. I hoped Merlin wouldn't be too upset with me. After all, it was random. My heart was racing as the door opened and my mother hurried through the door first, followed by my father and Merlin.

"Mom," I sighed as she rushed up to me, pulling me into a strong hug. "Mom, I-"

"We're proud of you, Kimbra," my father cut in forcefully. Even more than the fact that he probably was proud, it wouldn't do for me to say something about not really wanting to be in the Games. Cold feet was one thing, but the wrong words could all but ensure that I didn't make it out of the arena alive.

They didn't want a Victor who wouldn't be a positive reflection on the Capitol.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," I whispered, looking up at my brother, but he smiled sadly and shook his head, wrapping me up into a hug.

"Forget it," he whispered. "I'm going to be cheering for you the whole time. You're going to win for me, aren't you?"

"Of course," I whispered, trying not to shake at the thought that I was probably going to be the very weakest of the career tributes. After all, I'd barely made the cut. Merlin had been prepared for three years and was spoken highly of at every turn.

They'd picked the wrong Gillespie, but it was too late to switch now.

"It's going to be fine," my mother cooed, obviously trying to convince herself. "You're going to win this thing, aren't you, Kimbra?"

"Yes, mom," I reassured her with a small, tense smile. "I'm going to win it just for you."

She smiled at me and I hugged them all one more time, trying desperately not to cry. I finally managed to let go of my mother without having to pull her back again to mask my tears, and just in time for a peacekeeper to stick his head in and say that their time with me was up.

My parents walked away and I was trying not to hope that it wasn't the last time, mostly because I wanted to believe that if I told myself that if I believed I could win I might actually manage to stay alive.

I fought the urge to pace the room as the door closed, sitting on a table and staring at the door absently, wondering if I ran out then, told Meredith that there wasn't a mistake and that I hadn't meant to volunteer...

But it was already too late. Gal, Morgan, and Phrixus walked in then as a group, purposefully.

"Congratulations!" Gal said, smiling. He really meant it. His smile was comforting, a reminder that I had wanted this too. He would have liked to have been chosen, I had no doubt.

"What do you know of Kirby?" Morgan asked softly, sitting down beside me, swinging her legs absently as she always did when she as anxious, but not the bad sort - the excited sort of anxious.

"I know nothing," I admitted. "I've seen his face before, but that's really about it. What about you guys? Do you know much about him?"

"I know he was barely allowed to volunteer this year," Phrixus said softly. "His trainer was on the fence, but I think his father put on a lot of pressure, and the final idea was that if he died, at least the girl would be decent and the district wouldn't be totally shamed."

I nearly shivered.

Decent, maybe, but good enough to keep from shaming my district? Somehow I doubted that. If Kirby and I were both terrible, what hope was there of salvaging some good memory of these games for our district, much less surviving?

And suddenly I realized how very much I wanted to survive.

I must have looked a bit queasy, because suddenly Gal wrapped me up in an uncharacteristic hug and said, "You're going to be just fine, Kimbra. All right? I know you've got the guts for this. Don't prove me wrong."

Phrixus and Morgan both moved to join the hug and I held tightly onto Gal as their bodies closed in around me, my last bit of true comfort and safety before I left that room to get on the train. A door opened and I knew my time with them was up, but I grabbed onto Gal's shirt instinctively, not wanting them to leave me.

But with soothing words that I hardly even heard, Morgan took my hands from his shirt and kissed my cheek, smoothing back my hair a bit before giving me a sad smile and following the boys out the door.

I was only alone with my eyes filling up with unshed tears when a voice at the door told me it was time to get onto the train. Taking a deep breath, I blinked and wiped my eyes, composing myself as best I could before making my way to the door that hid me from the world for only a short while longer.

Kimbra Gillespie was a tribute, I told myself. A tribute, something I'd wanted for as long as I could remember, at least to some extent. Something I'd spent years working toward.

I should have felt a bit happier as I followed Kirby onto the train we were being ushered onto, but my stomach was flipping with entirely mixed and opposed emotions as I tried to remind myself that tribute was just one step away from being victor.

Then again, it was also one step away from being dead.


End file.
